The Best Laid Plans
by silk-one
Summary: Crossover with the ATeam. Horatio and the CSIs come up against a strange group of men, apparently set on destroying the Mala Noche gang. Will they be able to work together? Read on to find out... Go on, give it a go, you know you want to!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from either the A-Team or CSI: Miami. I am making absolutely no money whatsoever from this, only enjoyment.

A/N: Well done for all of you brave enough to even get this far. I'm not sure quite what sparked this particular idea, but it just kept niggling at me until I had to write it down. I've always loved the A-Team, ever since I was four years old. Watching it with my dad was a family ritual and no Saturday afternoon was complete with Hannibal and the gang. And I love CSI: Miami, more than the other CSIs, for the sheer silliness of some of the plots, and the locations, and basically everything. (Especially Horatio - don't know why, but I just love the man). So, combining the two was an obvious move for me.

In order to do this with any attempt at reality, certain things had to be changed. So, in order for the A-Team not to be all incredibly old, they were in the Gulf War, not Vietnam. Everything stays the same, just they were convicted of robbing the Iraqi National Bank in Baghdad, not the Bank of Hanoi. That's the only real change in their story. For Miami, no change in the timeline, just that this happens mid Season 4, before Marisol becomes a part of Horatio's life.

So, now that's all explained, I hope you enjoy the tale. It will hopefully be funny, as all good A-Team adventures are, and even better, make sense, as all good cop stories should. Please review - I'd love to know if there's anyone out there enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Or if you all hate it, although obviously I'd prefer the former!

* * *

Odd. That was the word for this, Horatio knew. Very, very odd. He knew Mala Noche had been causing problems in Little Havana, knew that they had been forcing people to co-operate, but due to budget restrictions, all he had been able to do was order a few more patrols through the area. Technically, there was no crime scene to investigate, no crimes had been committed and there was nothing he could do. That hadn't stopped his interest, not knowing that the same gang behind this trouble was the one that wanted him dead. Still…he paused as he considered the mess in front of him. Odd was definitely the word. 

Three members of Mala Noche, easily identifiable by their distinctive pitchfork tattoos, were sitting on chairs, hands bound behind their backs, legs tied to the chair legs. Each had been gagged with some clothing, ripped into strips. All three were also wearing large dunces caps, rolled up out of newspaper, with a large 'D' printed on them in black ink. Frank had snorted with laughter when he had seen the tableau, and Horatio was tempted to do the same.

Instead, he slid the gag out of the closest one's mouth. "Well, gentlemen, this is unusual."

"Listen, pig, untie me right now! I am gonna kill them!" The gang member glared around, and got nods of agreement from his companions. "They dare to humiliate the Mala Noche! Huh, Caine, your end will be quick compared to what I will do to them."

"Keep up with that attitude, and I may just leave you here." Horatio studied the knots that bound the three men to their chairs. Intricately tied, and identical. Military precision? But what were the military doing here? "Can you tell me who did this?"

"Some dudes who think they're real clever." He curled his lip in derision. "They gonna learn what clever is!"

Horatio, quietly and without warning, pulled the gag back into place, leaving the man to splutter with indignation. He moved to the next man and moved his gag. "Are you going to be more helpful?"

This one was younger, his eyes wide in his face. "Um, there were four of them. Three white guys and this huge black dude, who had all this jewellery and stuff." He shivered slightly at the memory. "One of the white guys was definitely mad. He kept singing in odd languages, and talking to this invisible dog."

An invisible dog? Horatio arched an eyebrow and looked around. This certainly looked like the work of madmen. Or very, very clever men who knew how to keep one step ahead. "Anything else? What about the other two?"

"One was this old guy who seemed to be in charge. Kept puffing on a cigar and laughing. The other one was younger, kinda good looking. He called the older guy 'Hannibal'." The young man tried to shrug, but was prevented by the ropes that held his arms in place.

"Did they say why they did this?"

"Said it was punishment, and that we should learn to stay out of Little Havana. Our brothers will not like this." The young one's eyes were burning with anger. "They said we should move away, that no one wants us here."

"They were right about that, at least," Horatio murmured quietly. He looked around, frowning. This sounded like some sort of private army. Based in Little Havana? This looked like getting odder before it became any clearer. "Thank you gentlemen," he said, walking out.

"Hey, you can't leave us here!" Horatio smiled grimly, and walked away.

"What do you think H?" Eric hovered outside the warehouse, a smile lighting his eyes. Tripp looked as though he was still choking back laughter.

"It sounds as though we have a small, private group acting on behalf of the residents of Little Havana. They appear to have been hired to deal with Mala Noche." He squinted in the sun, and shook his head. "Four of them, and apparently one of them is a lunatic."

"You're kidding?"

"Well, unless you can find any evidence in there of a dog," Horatio added, a small smile on his lips. "It would appear he has an invisible dog that goes everywhere with him. If you can prove there was a dog, then, no, he's not mad." Eric looked disbelieving but Frank laughed.

"You see all sorts in this job, huh?"

"It would appear so." He looked back into the warehouse. "Let's get these three downtown, while you and I take a little drive down to Little Havana. Eric, I'll leave the scene to you."

* * *

Horatio drove them to Little Havana, parking just off Calle Ocho. A small explosion filled the air, and the two men slipped out of the car, weapons drawn. Slowly, they made their way through the strangely deserted streets, towards the smoke that billowed in the still air. More shots were fired, and several other explosions went off. Horatio exchanged worried looks with Frank. What the hell was going on? It sounded like a small war was being fought on the streets of Miami. While Frank called urgently for back up, Horatio made his way silently around another corner, and found the war zone. 

Several cars had been overturned, and men were using them as barricades, firing up into one of the buildings, where someone was intermittently returned fire. One of the men from behind the car was creeping towards the building, when someone lobbed a small grenade at him. Horatio almost called out a warning, before remembering to stay hidden. The grenade went off with a loud bang, but covered the man in sticky pink goo, rather than hurting him. Horatio watched in bemusement as two men crept out on a balcony, behind the barricade of cars and proceeded to tip something over the hiding men. They leapt up, yelling in shock and were sent scuttling for cover again by a long burst of gunfire.

"Throw your guns down!" A strong, authoritative voice called out from the cover of one of the buildings. "Now, and no one else gets hurt!"

Horatio waited with baited breath, when to his amazement, a small arsenal of weapons was thrown from behind the cars, followed by ten men with their hands on their heads. He choked back a grin when he saw that at least two of them were covered in the pink liquid that had filled the grenades, while another five were caked in some sort of foam. Four men emerged from various buildings, each carrying an AK-47 assault rifle, trained on the ten defeated men.

They matched the descriptions given by the young gang member, vague though they had been. One was a tall, extremely broad black man, with black hair shaved into a Mohawk and a wealth of gold around his neck. Another, dressed in jeans, a bomber jacket and a baseball cap would give a little skip every now and then – the madman, Horatio assumed. Another was dressed immaculately in a white linen suit, every line sharply pressed. Blond hair and blue eyes complimented the bright smile that looked incongruous above the steady gun. The leader was obvious. Greying hair belied the energy that came from him, and, as predicted, a cigar was perched in one corner of his mouth.

"I think we made our point, don't you Face?" It was the leader who spoke first, addressing the handsome young man. "Do you think they need another lesson?"

"I don't know Hannibal, they still look kinda angry." It sounded scripted, almost, as though they had done this sort of thing many times before. "BA?"

"These fools don't know when to quit," the black man growled, and the prisoner nearest him flinched back a little.

"Now, BA, let's not be too hasty. I think we should give them another chance. Into the building, now." Hannibal gestured with his gun, and the prisoners shuffled into the indicated building, defeated. Horatio moved up the street, wondering briefly where the hell back up could be, and watched as the ten prisoners were efficiently tied up in the same manner as the three he had seen earlier, complete with dunces caps. Hannibal looked around, a wide smile on his face. "I love it when a plan comes together. BA, take the guns, and get the van. Let's get out of here before the cops get here."

"First sensible thing you've said all day," Face muttered.

Horatio, still hidden in the shadows, held his breath as BA walked past, carrying all four rifles. As he heard the other three move into the street, he crept silently up behind them. The only one who hadn't spoken cocked his head, as though listening to something. "Hannibal, Billy thinks he can hear something. I think he's caught a scent of someone."

"Don't let BA catch you talking to Billy again," Face warned.

Hannibal seemed to take the warning a little more seriously. "Murdoch, are you sure?"

Horatio, deciding that he couldn't wait any longer for back up, stepped out into the sunshine and kept his gun trained on the leader, Hannibal, the most obviously dangerous of the three. "Gentlemen," he said quietly.

They spun to face him, without a trace of surprise on their faces. "And you are?"

"I am with the Crime Lab, gentlemen. I've already seen your little message to the Noches over by the docks."

"What's your name, pal?" Hannibal's voice was calm, and Horatio noticed he was pulling on a pair of black leather gloves.

"Horatio Caine. What's yours?" If they wanted to be polite, he was willing to talk and delay them, hopefully until back up arrived. Where the hell had Tripp got to?

"Oh, you don't want to know about us," Face said, a charming, open smile on his face. "We're not very interesting."

"You are to me." The wail of sirens not to far away made Horatio smile. "Now, I know you're Hannibal, you're Face and you're Murdoch. And the man who went to get the van is BA, but that does not tell me a great deal about who you really are."

"Very boring people," Face assured him hurriedly.

"I'm not boring," Murdoch chimed in. "I'm mentally unstable. Mentally unstable people are _always_ interesting." He smiled brightly at Horatio. "Do you like my dog?"

With a straight face, Horatio nodded. "Billy's a good looking dog, you must be proud of him." Hannibal and Face exchanged wary looks.

"You know about Billy?"

"I do." He heard a car screech up behind him and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Uniformed officers leapt out, guns at the ready, accompanied by a worried look Frank Tripp. "Gentlemen, I would be very grateful if you would make this easy and come down to the station with me. I have some questions I need answered."

"Can Billy come too?" Murdoch asked anxiously.

"Sure," Horatio agreed easily. "Frank, make sure Animal Control knows about the dog we're bringing in."

"What dog?"

"Oh, we don't need Animal Control! Colonel, you won't let him take Billy, will you?"

Colonel, Horatio noted. So definitely military then. "No, Captain, I won't let them take Billy." Hannibal looked around. "We could leave Billy here, I'm sure he'll be just fine. We'll collect him before we leave Miami."

"What dog?" Tripp asked again.

"Frank, there's a fourth man nearby, can you send a couple of uniforms around to pick him up as well?"

"Tall, black guy, lot of jewellery?" Horatio nodded, and Tripp allowed himself a brief grin. It wasn't often he was one step in front of the CSI. "Picked him up two blocks away, loading AKs into a van."

"And there are ten members of Mala Noche tied up in that building over there."

"Patrol can bring them in. Now, H, what dog?" Horatio only smiled and shook his head.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at the station, the oddities continued to mount up. The four men point blank refused to submit to finger-printing, unless they were under arrest. Given little option, Horatio had had no choice but to arrest them. BA had gone to cause trouble, but had gruffly given in at a single shake of Hannibal's head. So not only military, Horatio mused, but extremely well-trained military. A team of long standing. The four men were separated and held in four interview room, out of sight of each other. Horatio stood in the observation room, watching Hannibal stare out of the window. He showed no sign of worry or strain at all, and Horatio was left to wonder exactly who these men were. They obviously didn't want to be identified, pointing to them being on the run from someone, and yet were unconcerned by the fact that they had been arrested.

"Strange bunch, aren't they?" Calleigh said, leaning against the door frame. "Face has just spent the last ten minutes chatting to Valera, flirting madly, and she's now in love with him. I had to physically remove her from the room. Not," she added with a bright smile, "that he's not very attractive, but she probably shouldn't be that friendly with him."

"Strange seems to sum them all up very well." Horatio smiled at the memory of Ryan Wolfe trying to get Murdoch's fingerprints. The man had, for no apparent reason, decided to talk only in French, and then had descended into pretending he was an aeroplane, zooming around the round with his arms held out as wings. Wolfe had been at a loss as to how to cope, and Eric had been laughing too much to help.

"H?" Eric came in then, holding the results of the AFIS search. To Horatio's surprise, Eric looked shaken. "H, you are not going to believe this. These guys…they're, well, they're wanted by the Feds, and by the army. Apparently they've been on the run for ten years or more."

Arching an eyebrow, Horatio scanned the AFIS results. "Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, Lieutenant Templeton 'Faceman' Peck, Captain HM Murdoch and Sergeant Bosco 'BA' Baracus. Hmm, they've amassed quite a rap sheet. The army wants them for a bank robbery they committed in Baghdad?"

"This lot claim they had orders to rob the bank, but the army denies it." Eric shook his head. "I can't believe we caught the A-Team. And it was so easy."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Horatio asked rhetorically, turning back to study Hannibal again. "Considering their reputation, it was extremely easy. I wonder…." Eric and Calleigh were left without the continuation of that thought, as Horatio, his eyes narrowed, made his way into the interview room. "Colonel," he greeted the prisoner politely. Hannibal turned to grin back at him, but remained standing, staring out of the window. "Our database has just confirmed that you are Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, the leader of the A-Team. Right?"

"Never heard of him," Smith declared, a broad smile on his face. "The A-Team, huh? I heard that they were this uncatchable team of mercenaries who were responsible for lowering the crime rate in LA. Famous, aren't they?"

"Infamous is a better word," Horatio countered. "So the A-Team works for money. I wonder who paid them for this job?"

"What job?"

Horatio smiled. "We both know what we're talking about Colonel. Why don't you cut all the double talk?"

"Because it's so much fun?" Hannibal grinned again. "If you already know who I am, why are _you_ playing this game?"

"The same reason you are," Horatio rejoined, sitting down at the table. "Colonel, we know who you are. One of my team will be alerting the Feds about your presence here as we speak." Eric and Calleigh exchanged looks: Horatio hadn't told them to do that. Were they meant to?

"Wait till Horatio is done, then we'll ask him," Calleigh decided with a shrug. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

"Am I meant to be worried?" Hannibal asked, sitting down opposite Horatio. "If you know all about us, then you'll know we've never stayed behind bars for longer than 24 hours before escaping. I'd give this place about eight hours. You look reasonably organised."

"You will not be escaping this time," Horatio said firmly.

"Yeah we will." Smith was infuriatingly confident, leaning back in his chair. "You see, I have to take care of my team. I think you understand that. Right, Lieutenant?" Horatio stood up abruptly, aware that Smith had hit a raw nerve. "Yeah," Hannibal nodded slowly, "you understand that all right. Lost one of 'em recently, did ya?" Oddly, there was only sympathy in the other's man voice, with none of the teasing mockery of earlier.

"Is there anything we can get you?" Horatio asked coldly. "A lawyer perhaps?"

Laughing, Hannibal shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. I could do with a coffee though. Oh, and can you get BA some milk? He doesn't much like coffee. And don't give Murdoch caffeine. The results aren't for those with weak stomachs." He winked at Horatio, who shook his head. Criminals were often confident that they would get off, but never so laid-back and totally unconcerned.

Calleigh and Eric looked equally as bemused. "Uh, should we have called the Feds, H?" Eric asked when Horatio rejoined them in the observation room.

"I don't think so," he said slowly. "Let's just see what the others say first."

Frank Tripp sat in on the other interviews, but they were just as unproductive, and Horatio was left with nothing but a blinding headache. BA had point-blank refused to say anything, except when Horatio got him a glass of milk. Then BA had thanked him, and told him to be careful around 'that crazy fool Murdoch', before falling silent again. Murdoch had told him categorically that he was insane, and that it was therefore wrong to keep him locked up. With a shrug, Horatio had left him with the department psychiatrist, who was looking increasingly harassed. Face had provided the headache. Horatio hadn't met anyone who could talk so fast, and lie so convincingly. It was only the solid evidence of fingerprints that prevented Tripp from deciding that it had all been a big mistake and releasing all four of them.

Horatio called a team meeting at the end of the day, to try to make sense of the situation. The psychiatrist, a Dr Vivian Chalmers, also joined them, looking as though she needed a large whisky. "Doctor, what can you tell us about Captain Murdoch?"

"He's mad," she said shortly. "Or at least, he's extremely good at pretending to be. I've looked through his medical records from the VA in LA, and he seems to have every psychotic disease known to man. He's been schizophrenic, sociopathic, had hallucinations, heard voices, developed twitches and anything else you can think of. He currently seems to believe that the only way to prevent the aliens from attacking him, and Lieutenant I'm afraid you and Detective Tripp are aliens to him, is for him to have a regular supply of trash bags. In order to keep him quiet, I've told the officers in charge of lock-up to just keep him happy." She shrugged helplessly. "To be honest, I'm still not entirely convinced he _is_ mad. But he certainly seems to think he is."

"This is the weirdest bunch of crackpots we've ever had, and I know we've all met some crazies," Tripp said, shaking his head. "How in the hell are they this dangerous, when they're all stark, staring mad? We had them all put in lock-up, in separate cells, and instantly that Baracus started to cause trouble, and beat up one of the guards. So, now, they're all in solitary confinement, just in case. How that's meant to help them escape, I don't know."

Horatio turned to the detective slowly. "They're all in solitary? Next to each other?"

"Well, yeah, but…."

Tripp didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as Horatio had already left the room, heading towards lock-up. He was a minute too late, however, as he found the guard tied up with the industrial strength trash bags that Murdoch had spent the afternoon clamouring for. Cutting him loose, he sighed. "So, how did they do this, Officer?"

"I, I don't know, sir," the young officer stammered. "The blond man's cell door just seemed to swing open, and then he hit me, and, and tied me up, and took my keys!"

Lieutenant Templeton Peck – a skilled conman and thief. The words from Peck's file rose in Horatio's mind and he swallowed the urge to curse. So he had to be an expert at picking locks as well. "When did they get out?"

"About five minutes before you arrived sir."

Horatio was already gone, issuing orders for all officers to be on the look out for the A-Team. "Do not approach - they are armed and dangerous," he ordered, knowing the lie might just protect some of the officers. The A-Team might not be armed just yet, but they were certainly dangerous.


	3. Chapter 3

To my reviewers, hope you like the next installment, and please do keep letting me know what you think!

* * *

"That was too close Hannibal," BA said as the four men crouched in the shadows outside the Crime Lab. "Way too close. That Caine knew all about us." 

"I know," Hannibal grinned. "He's good, isn't he?" The other three groaned at the tone of Hannibal's voice. _On the jazz_, Face mouthed to BA, who nodded and grimaced.

"So what's the plan, Hannibal? We still haven't exactly finished the job in Little Havana you know. And we're actually getting paid for this one," Face added, blue eyes lighting up at the prospect of getting paid.

"And I ain't leaving without my van," BA growled.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving your van behind," Hannibal said soothingly. "And of course we're going to finish the job. We always do, remember? Now I have a plan, and I think you're going to like this one." To increasing groans and disbelief, he outlined the latest plan.

"That won't work," Face said definitely.

"Yes it will," Hannibal grinned. "It will work, because I listen to gossip, whenever I'm in a police station. The Mala Noche want the good Lieutenant Caine dead. They want him dead very badly, and have put a large price on his head. A very large price. And so, the police who are all rather jittery about this, will be pleased to help us out."

"Yeah, Caine looked real jittery to me," BA pointed out sarcastically. "He looked as cool as you Hannibal."

"The tall, bald one looked real nervous to me," Murdoch put in.

"Everyone's nervous around you, fool."

Face and Hannibal exchanged grins as the other two glared at each other. It wouldn't be a normal day without BA and Murdoch arguing. "Well, first things first, we're going to need some weapons. And some transport," Hannibal said, looking expectantly at Face.

"Ah, Hannibal, I've only just got out of jail! C'mon, you gotta give a guy a break occasionally!"

BA laid a heavy hand on Face's shoulder. "You gonna to get us some guns, man, and some transport, or I'm gonna have to hurt you!" Hannibal laughed to himself as he watched Face start promising miracles. The kid would deliver – he always did. And the rest of his team would do their parts too. Teamwork was always the keystone of Hannibal's plans. He shot a thoughtful glance back at the Crime Lab, in time to see Caine and some of his team leave in one of the Hummers. Yep, this plan was going to work perfectly.

* * *

Horatio had ordered the guard detail at the impound lot to be doubled until the A-Team were apprehended. He had a feeling that they were not about to abandon their van, and he was determined not to be caught out again. His expression set and grim, he drove to the impound lot in silence, and Eric and Ryan followed his lead. Calleigh had been left to return to the scene of the gun battle in Little Havana, and had taken Tripp and a couple of CSIs from the graveyard shift with her. As far as Horatio was concerned, all leave had just been cancelled and everyone would work double shifts, triple if necessary, to catch these guys. 

The van that had been impounded was a black GMC van, with a bright red stripe along the side, leading up to a red spoiler on the back. A distinctive vehicle, Horatio thought, and odd because of it. Why would they choose such a memorable vehicle when they're on the run? Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, he slid opened the side door. The interior was kitted out in grey leather, with six seats inside. All perfectly normal, at first glance anyway.

"This is their big, scary getaway vehicle?" Eric asked, opening the rear doors. "I bet this van can't even go that fast."

"I bet it can," Ryan countered, looking under the bonnet at the engine. "This thing is immense – I've never seen so much power in one car. It must go like a rocket."

"Gentlemen," Horatio said quietly, but the authority in his voice made them both halt their bickering. "We are looking for anything that might tell us where the A-Team have gone, or who hired them in the first place." He started to examine under the seats, and pulled out a scrap of paper, with a Little Havana address scrawled on it.

Bagging it, he turned back to the car, only to be distracted by Eric's breathy, "Whoa." Moving around, Horatio stopped short at the arsenal of weapons stored in a secure metal box behind the seats. AK-47s, pistols, two sniper rifles, and what looked suspiciously liked a rocket-propelled grenade launcher sat innocently in the box.

"They could start a war with all this," Ryan stated, his eyes wide. "They've got enough spare ammunition here to take out most of Miami."

"And yet…" Horatio mused. "And yet, they captured rather than killed members of Mala Noche. They didn't attempt to fight back when we arrested them, and only two officers were hurt in their escape, and they're both just bruised and a little shaken. As far as we know, they haven't killed a single person since coming to this city, and their criminal records show that they aren't wanted for murder."

"Weird." Eric started to make a collection of all the weapons. "This lot are really weird."

Agreeing with the statement internally, Horatio turned back to his search of the interior of the van. Amidst the empty soda cans and sandwich wrappers, hinting to a life on the run, spent mainly in the van, he also found a battered photograph. The photo showed all four members of the team, along with a Hispanic man, all clad in desert fatigues. The note on the back read: _Kuwait City, 1990_. More interestingly, Horatio also found a notebook containing details on a man named General Morrison, and the bank robbery job in Baghdad. Whoever had written it, they were making links between Morrison and the CIA, and the suggestion seemed to be that Hannibal and the others had been set up.

They got back to the lab at the same time as Calleigh, bearing armfuls of ballistics evidence gathered from the street battle in Little Havana. "Oh well," she drawled happily, taking in the sight of all the confiscated weapons, "guess I'm going to be stuck in my lab for a while."

"Yeah, 'cause we all know how much that bothers you," Eric grinned and got an answering wink in return. "C'mon Wolfe, let's go see what else we can find from this stuff."

"Frank, let's go visit this address. I want to know why the A-Team is here." Horatio caught sight of the uniformed Army officer in the lab and sighed. "And let's go before we have to deal with the army. Eric, if he asks, I'm out and unavailable."

"Got it H."

Luckily for Horatio, the army officer didn't spot them until the elevator doors were closing. The officer, whose insignia proclaimed he was a Colonel, pounded his fist into the wall and glared around. "Hey! You!"

Eric turned to face him with a sigh. "Can I help?"

"Colonel Decker, Military Police. I believe you arrested the A-Team this morning?"

This wasn't going to go down well, Eric knew. "Uh, yes, but they escaped only a short while ago."

"You let them escape?!" Outrage made Decker's voice sharp. "Idiots!"

Annoyed, Eric frowned. "Yeah, well, we wouldn't be in this mess if you guys could catch them, would we? According to their files, you've arrested them several times, and they always escape from you. And they escaped from a high security military stockade when they were first arrested, so don't blame us." The CSI looked at the Colonel in disgust. "I have work to do." Decker glared at Eric's retreating back, but if the CSI noticed, he ignored him.


	4. Chapter 4

The address on the piece of paper led Horatio and Frank to a small house in Little Havana, just outside the main trouble area where most of the gangs congregated. Neat and tidy, the house was echoed by many of the houses on the street: each was well-kept and showed that the owners cared about their properties. Not the sort of area, in other words, that Horatio would have associated with mercenaries wanted by the Federal government. Then again, he considered wryly, so far nothing about the A-Team had been predictable.

With Frank hovering uncertainly in the background, Horatio knocked on the front door. A young girl, around sixteen, opened it, chewing on some gum, clearly uninterested in the visitors. "Yeah?"

"MDPD," Horatio announced, placing one hand on his hip, drawing his jacket back and allowing his badge to catch in the sunlight. "Can we come in?"

"Whatever." She shrugged and held the door a little wider, allowing them in. Inside, the house was still neat, although there were obvious signs of a teenager's existence. Teen magazines were scattered across the low table in the centre of the lounge. Aside from the debris caused by the girl, everything else was tidied away. There was little evidence of wealth here, no plasma screen TV, no computer, just a small television and a radio. On one wall, there was a display case of medals. Horatio raised one eyebrow when he saw a Silver Star and two Purple Hearts.

"Can I help you officers?" The man who spoke was short and slim, yet he gave the impression of being fit and capable. Grey had stained his temples, turning the black hair into a salt and pepper mosaic. Dark eyes weighed both policemen, before he relaxed and smiled, clearly reassured by whatever he saw.

"I'm Horatio Caine, of the Crime Lab, and this is Detective Frank Tripp, Homicide."

"Ah yes, Lieutenant Caine, I believe I've seen you on the news several times." The man laughed quietly as Horatio couldn't quite hide a grimace. "The press are not your favourite animals then?"

"Can we just cut to the chase?" Frank growled. "Who are you?"

"Eduardo Ruez, but you may call me Eddie. Everybody does," he shrugged with a smile. "Please sit down, and tell me what this is all about."

Sitting, Horatio handed over the photo he had pulled from the A-Team's van. "I was wondering how you know these gentlemen."

"Simple," Eddie grinned, leaning back in his seat. "They saved my life in Desert Storm. Pulled me and a buddy out of a bad fire-fight with the Iraqi Republican Guard. These guys are Special Ops. How did you get this?"

"I know they're the A-Team," Horatio said softly, and Eddie narrowed his eyes. "And I know they must be working for someone. I want to know what they are doing here."

"I have no idea what you mean."

Horatio half-smiled. "That's a big coincidence, Senor Ruez, to ask us to believe that you know the A-Team, and that you have nothing to do with them attacking members of Mala Noche."

"And we ain't so hot on coincidences," Frank added. "C'mon Eddie, we all know the score here. All we want is to know why they're here. We wouldn't ask you to betray your old comrades." Horatio shot the big Texan an odd look, but left it for now.

Eddie gave Frank a hard look. "You're not Army."

"No, but my brother was. Answer the damn question."

"You know the Noches have almost free reign in this area?" Eddie stood and began pacing the room. "And the police do nothing. Oh, I'm not blaming you; I understand that if no one reports a crime, it cannot be investigated. But some of us are growing tired of this regime we are forced to live under. We want an end to this constant crime, to the gun running, and the terror. So, we hired the A-Team. I knew how to contact them because I once fought with them. They came, and they promised to help us. The Noches are on the run, the A-Team have them scared and worried."

"The A-Team have them angry," Horatio corrected firmly. "The Noches will not just take this. Especially as I saw the A-Team apparently using foam to attack them. The Noches will come back with real guns and real bullets."

"Hannibal and the others aren't done yet," Eddie said complacently. "You will see."

"I hope so, for your sake," Horatio said, with a small shake of his head. He stood and held out his hand. "Senor Ruez, if you change your mind and decide you do need police help, you know where to find us."

"Thank you Lieutenant." Eddie escorted the policemen to his door, and only when it was shut did he let his smile falter. Dialling a number on his cell, he sighed as someone answered. "Hannibal, I've just had the police here. Are you all OK?"

* * *

Eric was running tests on a substance he had found lodged in the tires of the A-Team's van when Ryan walked in, shaking his head. The Cuban ignored his colleague as long as he could, but when it became clear the younger man was not about to leave, he said, "What have you got?" 

"Results on the pink goo that the A-Team covered the Noches in." Ryan shook his head again. "This is just weird. They have enough weaponry to take over the state of Florida, yet they rely on a form of epoxy. It's a basic repair resin sold in boat shops, but they've modified it slightly, watering it down to make it more fluid and less likely to solidify. Oh, and they added some cochineal to make it pink."

Eric had to grin. "Yeah, the foam they used was aqueous film-forming foam from your basic foam fire extinguisher. You gotta hand it to these guys: they're nothing if not original."

"Yeah, but why are they here?" Ryan sighed with frustration. "It doesn't make any sense. What're you running now?"

"Mud from the van tires: I'm hoping it will give us a lead as to where they hang out. You seen Calleigh lately?"

"Nope, she's locked in ballistics. Last time I saw her, she was cooing over the AK-47s. I think she's in love."

"Yeah, combine the AKs with the RPG we found, and Calleigh's in heaven. I'm surprised she hasn't run away with this lot. They could give her everything she wants." Eric laughed at his own joke, only to frown as Ryan frantically shook his head. "What?"

"Guns are all I want, huh?" Calleigh said, leaning against the doorway, one eyebrow arched in amusement. "No wonder you don't have a steady girlfriend Eric." She ignored Eric's blushes and leant over to peer into the microscope. "Looks like peat. Where'd you get it?"

"The A-Team's van. Peat, huh?"

"Yep, looks like they're out in the Glades. You want to try running it for fertilisers to see if we can narrow it down any more." Calleigh grinned at both of them, and sauntered out.

"I hate when she does that," Eric complained, beginning to change the test he was running to isolate any fertiliser compounds.

* * *

Hannibal was sipping a Coke when Face drove up in a convertible Mustang. Exchanging grins with BA, he stood up and paced around the car, admiring the sporty lines and the sound of the engine. Murdoch had instantly leapt in and started fiddling with the radio. 

"I'm feeling awful rednecky Colonel," Murdoch said happily, finding a bluegrass station. "Ah think," he added, his accent changing to a thick, Southern drawl, "Ah might be tempted to marry mah cousin."

"You don't have any cousins fool. And no one's mad enough to marry you."

"Actually, my second cousin twice removed, Ernest, is madder than me. He's got four different personalities living in his head, but they let Ernie do most of the talking. Apparently he's the sociable one." Murdoch was about to carry on when BA growled at him, and he shut up.

"This all you get for us kid?" Hannibal said to Face.

"Please!" Face assumed an injured expression which let his Colonel know that the kid was about to produce something good. Opening the trunk of the car, Face smirked at the others. "And you'll never guess where I got them."

Hannibal looked in appreciation at the array of rifles and pistols, all with plenty of ammunition. "Where from Face?"

"Well, I had a little chat with my new friend Pablo, and he gave them to me. On loan, of course."

"Pablo?"

"Pablo, of the Mala Noche gang." Face grinned at his own genius.

"So you've convinced the Noches to give us guns to put them out of business? Nice, Face, very nice." Hannibal grinned and lit a cigar. "It's all beginning to come together very nicely indeed."


	5. Chapter 5

Horatio was reading the book found in the van, detailing all of the A-Team's dealings with General Morrison, apparently lost in thought. Flicking back to the beginning, he frowned. According to this, Hannibal had had specific orders to rob the bank in Baghdad, as part of the operation to destabilise Saddam Hussein's regime. This was, of course, before Desert Storm had finished, and before the alliance had decided not to invade as far as Baghdad. It would be another thirteen years before an American army would invade Baghdad and replace Hussein and his government. Morrison had handily died before the A-Team's court martial, and so they had been convicted.

"What are you thinking Handsome?" He looked up and smiled at Calleigh, pleased to hear her happy and joking again. Hagen had dampened her spirits, and he blamed himself for not being there to help her through. Raymond, he sighed. A lot lay at his brother's door. Still, Calleigh was smiling again.

"I'm thinking that the A-Team might have been wrongly convicted." He gestured to the notebook. "I think they were set up."

"Really?"

"It's beginning to look like it. I'll have to check up on some of these details. What about you?"

"Well, none of the guns have their serial numbers on, and they've been filed down so far that there's no way of reconstructing them. But, I did match striations from several of the weapons to incidents from LA. They were usually at scenes where the cops would find the latest gangster tied up, with a note from the A-Team."

"How did you find that out?"

"Ah, the great international network that is ballistics," Calleigh laughed. "I called Harry Levine, a ballistics expert I met at a conference. He works for the LAPD, and filled me in. You know, most of the LA cops think the A-Team are pretty good guys. They always go after the really bad guys, and then hand them over to the cops. Maybe you're right."

"Maybe." Horatio gave her a half-smile. "Is that army colonel still around?"

"Nope, Eric sent him off with a flea in his ear. It's safe to come out," she teased. "Eric's still testing the mud from the tires, I don't know where Ryan is."

"I'm sure he'll show up. Calleigh, can you check some dates for me? I'd like to be certain about this before I tell anyone else."

"No problem Handsome." She smiled widely. "Our secret, I promise."

* * *

"Mud is mud, Delko. What the hell can mud prove other than they needed to wash their van more often?" Tripp sighed, and leaned against the workbench. 

"Mud isn't just mud Frank," Eric replied, shaking his head. "How many times a week do you come in here? You should know by now that mud is never just mud. This mud is peat, and from the Everglades. More than that, this soil has a pH of 6.5." Eric said it as though it should mean something. The Texan just stared levelly at him. "That's the best pH for growing celery. Combine that with the fertiliser I just isolated, and we can find where they've been hiding out."

"All that from mud," Frank muttered. "I think I liked it better when policing was more about talking to people, not crops."

"Progress is a wonderful thing," Horatio commented dryly from the doorway. "Can we find out which farm they're using as their base?"

"Yep, just searching the database now. OK, based on the fertiliser, and the fact that they're growing celery, they're out on the very edge of the Glades, near the Tamiami Trail. It's got to be the Gladesdale Farm, owned by Rory Pardew."

"Gladesdale? Who thought up that name?" Tripp grumbled, as he led the way out of the lab. Horatio, laughing silently, followed him.

The Gladesdale Farm was on the very edge of the Glades, just outside the swamplands that made up the National Park. Rory Pardew was sipping coffee on the porch of his large, Plantation style house when they pulled up, and made no move to stand and greet them. Large and chubby, Pardew didn't look like he did much manual labour. Small, dark eyes watched the policemen suspiciously as they approached him, but he still didn't stand.

"Mr Pardew?"

"What can I do for ya?" he drawled, making a great show of drinking his coffee and then leaning forward expectantly.

"We'd like to take a look around your farm," Horatio told him.

"Then you're gonna need a warrant," Pardew replied, leaning back again. "I'm no friend to the cops."

"We can see that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said sharply, sitting up straight.

"Well," Horatio said in that deceptively polite tone that usually meant he held an ace that no one else knew about – Tripp grinned as he heard him. "Well, Mr Pardew, I can saw a couple of workers on our way in, and I'd bet they don't have papers. I can check them, if you'd like."

Suddenly looking a lot more interested in his visitors, Pardew stood up. "No call for that Officer."

"It's Lieutenant," Horatio corrected him sharply.

"Lieutenant, then. What are you looking for?"

"We'd just like to look around." Horatio saw no point in giving away anything – it was impossible to tell if Pardew knew the A-Team was using his farm. He suspected that the farmer had no idea. He just didn't seem the type that Hannibal would trust.

"Well, I guess that would be all right…."

"Uh H?" Tripp interrupted Pardew. "We might have a problem here." He indicated over his shoulder, where a dark green town car, with white letters proclaiming it was a Military Police vehicle emblazoned on the side, was making its way towards the house. "I think the MPs are here."

Horatio sighed. "Just what we needed." He waited until the car parked before he approached, a small smile on his lips. "What can we do for you Colonel?"

"You're in charge of the hunt for the A-Team?"

"I am."

"Not any more," he said, glaring at Horatio. "I'm Colonel Decker, and this is my operation. The A-Team are mine. And I am going to catch them. And you should talk to your CSI Delko. He needs to learn how to speak to superior officers."

"You're not his superior officer," Horatio said mildly. "Eric knows that respect is earned, not given. I stand by anything any one of my CSIs says. And the A-Team have committed crimes in Miami, making them my problem. We can share information if you like."

"You will stay away from the A-Team, you hear me Caine?" Decker spat at him. "I've heard all about your lab and you, and the problems you cause for federal officers." Horatio only arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You and your team are off this case. We won't be sharing any information with you." He turned to the three MPs who had accompanied him. "Search this place for any sign of Smith and the others."

Decker and the others stalked off, leaving Horatio and Tripp to watch them. "Charming, isn't he?"

"I know which Colonel I prefer," Tripp agreed gruffly. "We're not really going to stop looking for the A-Team, are we?"

"When was the last time we stopped half-way through a case?" Horatio asked rhetorically. "Let's let Decker have this place. We're going to need more than where they have been to find Hannibal and the others anyway."

Tripp shot the shorter man a keen look that belied the simple exterior the detective usually presented to the world. "You like him, don't you H?"

Horatio shook his head ruefully. "It doesn't matter whether I like him or not Frank. They've still committed a crime. We still need to catch them."

"Yeah, but you liked them."

A sigh, and Horatio admitted, "Yes, I did like Hannibal. But, like I said, it doesn't matter."


	6. Chapter 6

This was going to go wrong, Face knew with a simple certainty that said a lot about the way Hannibal's plans had worked out in the past. Sure, Hannibal's plans always worked, but they never worked the way he said they would. Sighing, Face checked his watch and stepped out of the car. Whether it would go wrong or not, he'd still go through with it, like he always did. Sometimes he did wonder why he trusted Hannibal so implicitly, but he always had, and Hannibal had never let them down yet. Face would bet a lot of money that it would take more than his own death to make Hannibal let the team down.

One look down the street confirmed BA was in position and Face straightened his jacket and smoothed down his hair. This was what he was about. Yeah, he was a soldier, a damned good one, but this, the con, this was what he did best. The house he walked towards was in one of the nicest areas in Miami – Hibiscus Island. And it was a nice house too, painted a pale, sky blue, the garden neatly manicured and stuffed with so many flowers that it made Face's nose itch. The door was a large, carved mahogany affair and the doorbell jangled loudly as he pressed it.

The woman who answered made Face's smile genuine. A tall, willowy blonde, with long, ash blonde hair cut in a stylish bob that fell over her face attractively. She had very bright green eyes, and she smiled in welcome. "Well, hey there," she said, biting her lip. "And who are you?"

Slipping easily into character, Face smiled. "I'm Calvin Rees, and I'm hoping you can help me. Can I come in?" Reassured by his charming smile, and the well-cut suit, she held the door open and ushered him in. Checking the place out as he walked through, Face fought the urge to whistle appreciatively. Everything was in the latest style, and expensive too. Crime obviously paid well. "Well, ma'am, I think I might have a business proposition for you."

Intrigued, she arched an eyebrow and sat down, gesturing for Face to do the same. "What sort of business would that be?"

"The sort of business that cops love to hear about." She leapt up and Face stood to, reaching out, not quite touching her. "Steady now, I'm on your side. Who said a beautiful woman shouldn't make a little easy money without the taxman having to know?" Slowly, she sat back down. "All I want to know is when our friends are coming back to pick up their latest stash."

Eyes wide, with terror or anger Face couldn't tell, she bit her lip again. "And if I don't tell you?"

"You think I'm threatening you? Oh no, this is simply a friendly chat. I want to get in touch with our friends to promote some business that they're going to want a piece of, and this seemed the best way of finding them."

"Mr Rees…"

"Calvin, please." Face leant forward. "First names are so much more sociable, don't you think….?" He let the question hang.

"Marissa," she answered automatically. "What sort of business?"

"So you do know them?" He smiled as she nodded slowly. "Well, my business involves some merchandise that they will want to buy. When will they be here?"

"Why should I tell you? You've already said you aren't threatening me." Marissa had obviously gained a little confidence from the friendly nature of the conversation so far. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Face grinned internally: the interest in her voice was clear. Interest in him, unless he missed his guess. And he very rarely did that. "Marissa," he said, moving to sit next to her. "Marissa, I don't really care about the information. I'm beginning to think I should be asking you out to dinner instead." He gave her his most sincere, charming smile and lowered his eyes, as though embarrassed. "But I've probably said too much. I should go, I'll find our friends another way."

This time it was Marissa who held out a hand to stop him. "No, you don't have to go just yet. Stay and talk a while."

"Just talk?" Face asked with a grin, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"Maybe not just talk," Marissa agreed, a pretty blush touching her cheeks. As Face leant in to kiss her, he smiled. The things he did for the team.

Several hours later, he emerged, straightening his collar. BA was still in position as a lookout, and Face drove the Mustang up so he could jump in. BA shook his head at the smug grin on the face of his friend but didn't say anything. He knew from experience he didn't need to – Face always liked to brag about how his cons went. Sure enough, after they'd driven another block, Face looked over at him. "Aren't you going to ask how it went?"

"Don't need to – your face says everything."

Annoyed, Face said sharply, "The Noches are picking up their latest consignment of guns tonight. And you can bet that Marissa, however much she enjoyed this afternoon, will definitely be telling them that someone came asking after them."

BA grunted. "How'd you know she was hiding weapons for these suckers in the first place?"

"Some things, BA, must forever remain secret. A magician never explains, you know."

* * *

Calleigh found Eric and Ryan poring over all the old Noche case files from the last six months, trying to spot a pattern. Both looked relieved to see her, and she wondered when the bickering between them would stop. It was getting boring to have to constantly play peacemaker. Just once, she wondered what would happen if it was her who threw a sulking fit. She smiled at the imagined image of her throwing something at Horatio, and turned her grin on the boys. "So where're Horatio and Frank?" 

"Not back yet from the Gladesdale Farm. I think they're going to have company there, Decker swung by here and then took off in hot pursuit." Eric's tone showed his opinion of the Colonel. "Where have you been?"

Remembering her promise to Horatio, she shrugged. "Checking some dates for Horatio. You guys want coffee?" Both agreed instantly, as she had known they would. By the time she returned with three cups, Alexx had joined the boys in the layout room. "Hey Alexx, what are you doing here?"

"I was bored," the ME complained. "No one has been to see me all day."

"We haven't found anyone dead yet," Eric replied with a grin. "Just a bunch of crazy ex-soldiers who are quite definitely mad."

"Yeah, I heard about the escape. What is going on?" Alexx laughed when she heard the full story. "OK, they're all mad. But I like the sound of this Face. He sounds like a right charmer."

"Oh, he's that all right," Calleigh agreed. "And he is very pretty."

Eric and Ryan shook their heads. "You'd kill us if we made that comment about a female criminal," Ryan pointed out. "Why'd you get away with it?"

"Because," Calleigh replied archly. "Just because."

"Oh, like that explains anything!" Eric burst out.

"Glad to see you were all working hard while I was out," Horatio commented wryly. Calleigh and Alexx exchanged grins as Eric and Ryan both looked guilty. "Decker and the MPs are still searching the farm, but I don't think they're going to find anything they can use. Did you find anything that might help, gentlemen?"

"I'm not really sure what we're looking for," Ryan admitted.

"Areas that the Noches have been active in – we need to find out where the A-Team will go next, and the logical assumption would be they will go where the Noches are. They're here to stop them, but we don't know how they're going to achieve that yet, so we need to work on the most probable plan," Horatio explained.

"What I don't get is why we're doing this," Eric complained. "I mean, we hate the Noches, right? It's a good thing if they get beaten up by the A-Team. Why don't we just let them get on with it?" Both Frank and Ryan nodded in silent agreement, and Horatio couldn't disagree entirely.

"And if innocent civilians get hurt in the crossfire? I know it seems contradictory, but the A-Team are convicted criminals, on the run from the federal government, and we have to try to catch them. Even if we think they're doing the right thing," he added, an undertone of regret in his voice. "So let's try to focus on this, because I'm sure we don't want to be beaten by the Military Police." At least they all agreed on that point.

"Horatio, can I have a word in your office? I've got the information you wanted," Calleigh told him.

"After you," he replied, holding the door for her.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Just the one chapter for now, but there's plenty more to come, it's just a question of getting the time to edit it fully. Please keep the reviews coming in, it really does make my day to read that someone other than me is enjoying this story.

* * *

"So what have you got for me Cal?" Horatio asked, once they were safely inside the relative secrecy of his office. The last thing he needed was for IAB to discover that he was trying to prove the A-Team were innocent. Rick Stetler had enough problems with his lab as it was, and that was a man who never needed any more encouragement to cause trouble. 

"The usual," she grinned. "You are right. As usual. Doesn't that get a little dull?"

"Calleigh…."

"Oh, all right," she smiled teasingly. "I checked out the dates of the army orders sent in 1990, including the ones that sent Hannibal and the others to Baghdad. The A-Team say that they were given the order to rob the Iraqi National Bank on the 1st December 1990, but the official army records, which are now available through the DOD, state that all attempts to invade Iraq had been stopped the previous month. Not looking good so far, right? Well, that's only scratching the surface. Checking through some journal articles, there were a couple of articles as late as the January edition of _Vanity Fair_ in which American generals were quoted as saying that the push to Baghdad would continue. And another article which said invading was stupid, but that's off topic. So, the official records and the journalism from the period don't match up."

"So someone in the army is covering their tracks?" Horatio mused. "It's easier to change official records than to get the media to cooperate."

"But why would they bother?" she asked. "I mean, so an operation went wrong. It's not like it's the first time."

"Who was the original investigating officer in the A-Team's case? Do we know?"

"A Colonel called Lynch. He was also chasing them for years, but then he was replaced by Decker, presumably because he never caught the A-Team for longer than a day."

"No resemblance to us then," Horatio said in amusement. "OK, Cal, can you check into Lynch for me? Maybe he had a grudge against the team for some reason."

"Sure thing. What are you going to do?"

He hesitated for a second. "I'm, um, I'm going to speak to a friend." Calleigh raised her eyebrows as he left the room. Maybe it was because she knew him so well, or maybe it was because Horatio was the most honest man she'd ever known, but she had always been able to tell when he was lying. And he had been lying then. Or hiding something at the very least.

* * *

Eduardo Ruez only sighed when he saw Horatio outside his door again. Hannibal had said the man would come back. And, he grinned, Hannibal had been right. Again. "What can I do for you this time Lieutenant?" 

"I'm, ah, hoping you can help me." This was awkward, and Horatio wasn't entirely certain why he was doing this, only that Hannibal and the others had been set up and he hated injustice. And as far as he could see, despite being on the run, the A-Team had been remarkably conscientious about keeping the peace. Sure, the bad guys got hurt, but that was justice in its way. Despite what he had said to Eric, Horatio had started to hope that the A-Team managed to get away at the end of this.

"Come in and sit down." Ruez frowned. He wasn't sure where this was going, but it probably wouldn't be good news for Hannibal. "Now, what it is that you want my help with?"

"I need to contact the A-Team."

Ruez smiled. "You said that last time, Lieutenant. I still don't know where they are."

"But you do know how to get in touch with them. Just ask them to meet me." Horatio hesitated for the briefest of seconds and added, "Please."

"Why? You want to arrest them. I will not lead them into a trap."

"It's not a trap," Horatio said softly, his eyes fixed on the other man. "I need to talk to Hannibal, and I have no intention of arresting him or the others." Not yet, at any rate. The time may come when he would have no choice, but he hoped that was still far in the future.

Ruez leant back in his seat and stared at Horatio, who returned his gaze evenly. Eventually, biting his lip, Ruez nodded once. "I cannot tell you where they are, but I can tell you who to meet. An old fisherman called Jeff Morgan hangs around the Dolphin Marina in the Gables. He knows where to find Hannibal."

Horatio stood. "Thank you."

"Lieutenant? Why do you want to meet them? Unless it really is a trap."

"It's not a trap," he repeated. "And I just need to be sure of something before I act on some information." What information, Ruez wondered, watching him leave. As before, the first thing he did was call Hannibal, who seemed pleased that his acting talents were going to be required on this job.

* * *

The Dolphin Marina was situated on the edge of the Gables, and housed a collection of beautiful yachts. The richest in Miami paid dearly to moor their boats in these waters, but Horatio paid them little attention. Scanning the area with a practised eye, he spotted a group of fishermen out on one of the piers. Making his way over, Horatio thought he caught a flash of gold jewellery, but when he turned around, there was no one to be seen. There were three fishermen, but two of them disappeared at a look from the third. He was short, hunched over with age, with a bulbous nose and deep-set eyes. He was going bald, but what little hair remained was snowy white. He grinned insolently at Horatio, revealing only a few remaining teeth. 

"Jeff Morgan?" Horatio asked, slipping his sunglasses off and hiding a smile.

"That's me." He spoke with a deep Southern accent. "You're that fella my ol' pal Eddie told me about."

"I am. I need to speak to some people, and I think you know how I can get in touch with them."

"They don't come cheap, you know." Morgan started to laugh, before it turned into a hacking cough. Once the fit had passed, he lit a cigarette. "Got to stop these things, they're killing me the docs tell me. You smoke?"

Horatio shook his head, and smiled. "I'm not intending to hire them Mr Morgan. I just need to speak to them."

"That don't come cheap neither."

"I have important information for them."

That sparked Morgan's attention. "Oh really? And this is something they couldn't have worked out for themselves?"

"I'm sure they already know it."

"Interesting," the old man said. "Say, why don't you tell me, and I'll pass it on? Save you the bother of meeting up with them."

Not a bad idea, Horatio knew. He could do without risking Stetler finding out he was meeting with wanted criminals. "I know they're innocent. I know they robbed that bank in Baghdad on the army's orders. Orders that were later changed and covered up."

"Do you now?" The fisherman's voice held a great deal of interest now. He regarded Horatio curiously. "And how did you find this out?"

"A little checking around."

"Why did you bother? The army has them all but convicted."

"They didn't seem like bank robbers to me." A simple truth, but Horatio had always preferred simple truths to complicated ones.

Morgan chuckled to himself. "You see further than most, I will give you that. I'll pass that message on to the Team. They'll be pleased to know someone believes them."

"I don't know if I can prove it yet," Horatio warned. "At the moment, it's just circumstantial."

"Better than anyone else has done. At least you believe in them. It's a good start. I understand they're after the Mala Noche gang at the moment. You might want to watch yourself, I hear the Noches have a contract out on you."

"I've heard that myself," Horatio admitted. That had _not_ made his life easier.

"I dare say you won't when the A-Team are finished."

"Pass on my thanks."

"I will."

Horatio turned to go and walked away, before turning back and calling out, "Oh, and Hannibal? Your accent's more Texan than Floridian, but it was still impressive." For once, Hannibal was left speechless as the CSI walked away, a pleased grin lighting his features. For once, and maybe just for that one time, he had had the last word.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: And here we have the action about to start... As this is one of Hannibal's plans, don't expect it to go smoothly. Oh, and in answer to Lakshimbai's query, this isn't going to turn into an HC fic, it's just I liked it better when they were acting all flirty with each other. You know, back before TPTB decided to ruin everyone's lives by giving them ever more angst. All reviews appreciated.

* * *

Murdoch knew that BA thought he was crazy. Well, Hannibal and Face did too, but they were slightly different. Still, the whole team knew that Murdoch was always sane when it mattered most. When it came down to the wire, when someone's life depended on it, HM Murdoch was as sane as the next man. It never lasted, and he preferred being mad, but when it counted, he could stop the madness. At that moment, Murdoch was very serious. Face was the real sniper in their team, he was the one who had won prizes for shooting, but Face was also the only one who could sell anyone anything. And they needed Face to sell the story to the Noches. So Murdoch was given the sniper's rifle, and he had taken up position on top of a handy building that gave him a perfect line of sight into the pool house when Face was conducting his latest scam. 

He had been there for hours, waiting, just in case Face needed the cover. If things looked like they were going south, then Murdoch could give the Lieutenant the vital few seconds he would need to escape. The Noches hadn't been surprised when Face – Calvin Rees for this night – had walked in, as Marissa had obviously told them about her visitor. Murdoch could see, through his telescopic sight, Face explaining, an easy, confident smile on his handsome face. So far, the Noches were only looking perplexed and baffled, not angry, but that could change in a flash and Murdoch would be ready. One of the Noches threw back his head and laughed, and Murdoch relaxed minutely. This was going to go all right. He'd stay watchful, but they'd bought Face's scam.

Sure enough, the leader leant forward and shook Face by the hand, a smile on his face. The conman walked out of the pool house, but Murdoch didn't move. He stayed in place until Face was well clear of the house, until Hannibal gave him the all clear over the radio. Only then did he pack up the rifle and rejoin the others.

Face was grinning, and Hannibal looked proud. Murdoch occasionally wondered if Face knew that Hannibal looked at him that way. As a father looks at a favourite son. Probably not, the pilot decided. "So, how'd it go Facey?"

Face gave him his widest, most charming smile. "You're now looking at the man contracted to kill Lieutenant Horatio Caine."

* * *

The note was delivered to CSI late that night, and the on duty desk sergeant delivered it straight to Horatio, still pacing his office, still looking for a way to prove the A-Team's innocence. He'd sent the others home, determined that they should get some rest, even if he couldn't. He knew he wouldn't sleep, not with this messy situation, and had decided not to even try. There had to be a way of proving their innocence. If there was, however, he couldn't see it. The army were not about to overturn a conviction based on some dates that didn't quite match up, not without some good, solid evidence to back that up. And they weren't going to like the idea that someone in the army had set up Hannibal and the others. So Horatio continued to pace. 

The note was typed, post-marked Biscayne, and on plain white paper. Careful not to show any emotion while anyone walking past his office could see, Horatio read the note in growing incredulity. Hannibal had a reputation for outlandish, unorthodox plans, but this sounded like the maddest idea Horatio had ever heard. _Lieutenant, Face now holds the Mala Noche contract to kill you, and now we need to force the Noches out of Miami for good. All I need you to do is come to the docks, near Pier 25, at noon tomorrow and all will become clear. You'll need your weapon, but you should be perfectly safe. Probably best if you come alone, your friends might get trigger-happy and arrest us again. _It was signed H, and Horatio had to smile at the echoing of his own nickname.

His smile turned grim again as he reread the note. So Face was being paid to kill him, and they wanted him to show up alone at the docks, without backup. If anyone else had suggested it, Horatio would have shot down the plan instantly. It sounded more like a set-up than a plan, and it was Horatio who would pay the price if he turned out to be wrong about the A-Team. Given that the Noches had apparently offered to pay five million dollars to the man who killed him, it would be a tempting prize for any mercenaries on the run from the law.

"Something on your mind?" Calleigh was leaning against the doorframe, a wide smile lighting her eyes.

"I thought I told you to go home and get some rest," Horatio replied, shaking his head. Sometimes he wondered if he really set the best example for his team. They all seemed to have copied his workaholic nature. "Why are you still here?"

"Same reason you are," she shrugged. "And besides, I went home. I went home, had some dinner, had a shower, got changed and then came back here. You never said we had to stay home." He shot her a warning look, which she cheerfully ignored. "So, what's on your mind?" As he had already trusted Calleigh with his suspicions about the A-Team's innocence, Horatio didn't hesitate in handing her the note. She read it with an arched eyebrow and then looked at him. "You realise, of course, that this could be a trap, and they could just kill you?"

"I do." He sighed heavily. "But I can't help trusting Hannibal."

"What happened to follow the evidence, not your instincts?" she teased him. "Seriously though, all the evidence says the A-Team are criminals, and they've just told you that Face is being paid to kill you. Aren't you the slightest bit suspicious about them?"

"Of course." Horatio smiled as a plan occurred to him. "That's why you're coming with me tomorrow."

"What?!"

"You're the best shot in the department Cal. If anyone should be covering my back, it's you."

She coloured at the compliment and then shook her head. "Horatio, you should have more than one person with you. Besides, they want you to come alone. Hannibal might not do anything if I'm with you."

"You won't be with me Cal. You're going to be in position on the roof, armed with one of those sniper rifles you like so much. That way you're not in danger, but you can keep an eye on me."

Only Horatio, she thought in exasperation, would come up with a plan to keep her safe, when it was his life that was in danger in the first place. Still, if she didn't agree, the man was stubborn enough to go by himself. "I still think you're going to need more than one person. What about Frank? He'd back you up all the way."

One look at the stubborn set of her jaw, and Horatio gave in. Despite her small stature and usually sunny nature, he'd learned from experience that when Calleigh Duquesne set her heart on something, she invariably got it. "I'll talk to Frank in the morning, and make sure he knows the score. We're walking a dangerous line here Calleigh. You know Stetler's after the lab, so we've got to make sure that if the A-Team get away, it doesn't look like we helped them."

"It's a good job we've got you to come up with a plan then." Calleigh smiled. "Hey, have you ever thought that Hannibal and you are really similar?" He only looked at her and she laughed. "No, really. You're both smart, you both come up with occasionally off-beat plans that always work, and you've both got teams that will always support you."

"And for that, I am grateful. Go home and get some rest, Cal. I mean it this time." She nodded and turned to go, only to pause at the door as he called her name. "And if you see me pick up a cigar, you have my permission to shoot me."


	9. Chapter 9

Horatio could feel the excitement coursing through his veins as they parked by the docks, the adrenaline pumping already, in preparation for anything that could happen. And anything could happen, with Hannibal and the A-Team about to do _some_thing. It irked him that he still wasn't sure what the plan really was, that he was only going along with it because it seemed like the only way. For a man who liked to be the one who came up with plans, it was difficult to simply go along with someone else's plan. Even more difficult when he wasn't sure what the plan was, or if it would even work. And that was enough to make sure the adrenaline was high, and would stay that way.

Calleigh and Frank exchanged weary looks. Every time, Calleigh thought, every time there's a potentially dangerous situation, it would always be Horatio at the centre of it. And, she considered disapprovingly, he always seemed to enjoy these situations. Even now, she could see the excitement sparkling in his eyes. A phrase that Face had mentioned, the short time that they had held him in custody, sprang unbidden into her mind. _Hannibal's always on the jazz_. Calleigh, her curiosity piqued, had asked what the jazz was and had smiled at the answer.

"The jazz, well, it's the love of action. Hannibal's always ready, always up for a fight. The jazz is simply the buzz you get from knowing you could die at any moment, from knowing that every moment could be your last." Face had smiled charmingly at both her and Valera before he added, "We're all addicted to the jazz, really. It's just Hannibal is always looking for the jazz, more than the rest of us. For Hannibal, the jazz is a way of life."

If that didn't describe Horatio, especially in moments like this, she didn't know what could. Of all of them, Horatio was the one who excelled in the tense moments. He was the one who could talk down a hostage-taker, who could be relied on to make that million-to-one shot. On the jazz, she thought fondly, and shook her head.

"So, we all know the plan, right?" Horatio asked, looking around at his friends. "You two stay out of sight, you got that?"

"We got it H." Frank looked more annoyed than usual. "I still think you're stupid for trusting these guys."

"No choice Frank. If we want the Noches out of Miami, we have to go with this. And besides," Horatio paused, and grinned cheekily, "we still might get a chance to arrest them, before the MPs find them. Yet another branch of the federal government annoyed."

Frank made a noise that could have meant anything. Calleigh checked her rifle again. "Are you sure you don't want one of us with you Horatio? What happens if it all goes wrong?"

"It won't," he reassured her. "And I need you two to stay out of sight, just in case. It will be fine," he said firmly, and such was his magnetism at moments like this, she believed him. Well, she believed him for long enough for him to disappear around the corner, out of sight. Sometimes, she considered, he was more like Face than Hannibal. He could make people believe the sky was pink if he wanted.

"Aw hell," Frank swore, "why do we always follow him? We should be telling Decker and the military, not helping the A-Team out."

Calleigh shrugged helplessly. "We're following Horatio because he'd only do this by himself if we didn't. Innocent or guilty, Horatio believes they are innocent, and that's enough for him to go out on a limb for Hannibal and the others. You know Horatio."

"Yeah, and one day those high morals of his are going to get him shot."

"Well, let's hope it's not today." Calleigh smiled and tried not to show the fear that had washed over her as Frank spoke. From the suddenly apologetic look on Frank's face, she wasn't sure she succeeded.

* * *

Horatio smiled to himself as he made his way towards Pier 25, aware that at least one person was watching him closely from the shadows. He smoothly drew his 9mm from the holster on his hip, and thumbed off the safety catch. It might the A-Team, but then again, Hannibal had expected Mala Noche to show up, and it never hurt to be cautious. Holding the gun low by his side, he continued walking towards the pier, catching sight of Murdoch hovering by a warehouse. The man waved to him, and gestured him over, but Horatio kept his gun drawn, just in case. 

"Captain," he greeted him.

"Hey there," Murdoch said, but he seemed distracted. "Glad you could make it. It's gonna be one hell of a party."

"Exactly what is the plan?"

"Doesn't matter." Murdoch smiled brightly. "Hannibal's plans always work, but they never work right. It'll change half-way through, so no point in telling you the original."

That didn't sound promising, and Horatio wondered if he had made the right decision after all. Still, it was too late to back out now. He thought gratefully of Calleigh's insistence on back-up. At least, if it all went wrong, there was someone there to pick up the pieces. "Look, Murdoch, what is going on?"

BA appeared from out of the shadows, and Horatio marvelled that such a large man could move so silently. "Don't have no time for explaining now Caine, the Noches are comin'. Murdoch, get your crazy ass over to your position. Caine, just stay down, got it?" As quietly as he had arrived, BA disappeared again, but not before handing Murdoch an AK-47 and some spare clips. Horatio raised his eyes heavenward and decided he didn't see anything illegal.

"You heard the big man," Murdoch shrugged. "Now, all you got to do is stay down here, and try not to get shot."

Leaving Horatio slightly baffled, and increasingly worried, Murdoch ran over to another warehouse, taking cover behind some packing crates. Horatio, with a shake of his head, copied the action, and made sure that the boxes provided as much cover as possible, while not obstructing his line of sight. Looking up, he thought he could see Calleigh on top of a warehouse, the sunlight catching the telescopic sight on her rifle. Then a car swung into the area, closely followed by another car, and ten Mala Noche members jumped out, making thinking a luxury he didn't have time for.

The fire-fight started immediately, with the Noches opening fire on Horatio's position. He slid down behind the crates as far as possible, and waiting for an opportunity to return fire. When the barrage of bullets slowed, he managed to get off a few shots, and with some satisfaction knew that he had hit the petrol tank of one car as it exploded, sending four Noches scurrying for cover.

Hannibal and the others were also working on keeping them pinned down, but three more car loads of Noches turned up and the difference in numbers was beginning to tell. Another car exploded, but Horatio was out of ammunition and was now just trying to stay out of the way of any bullets. Hannibal, crouched low, ran over to him, firing off a few shots as he went. Horatio, with some degree of admiration, noticed the cigar was still firmly lodged in Hannibal's mouth, and as the mercenary leader reached him, Hannibal took a few unconcerned puffs of smoke before he spoke.

"Looks like it's all gone wrong Lieutenant. I'm sorry for dragging you into this." The sparkle in his eyes belied the words, and Horatio didn't believe him for a second. Hannibal Smith would only surrender and admit defeat once he was three days dead.

"So what are we going to do?"

"As General Grant once said, when you're outnumbered and outgunned, there's only one option left."

"And that is?"

"Surrender," Hannibal replied with a grin. Ignoring Horatio's suddenly open mouth, Hannibal pulled a square of white material from somewhere and waved it over the top of the crates. "Hey! Hey, you lot! OK, we give in!"

"Throw your guns down then!" With a smirk, Hannibal tossed his AK into the middle of the battleground, and then threw Horatio's 9mm in too. The rest of the A-Team followed Hannibal's lead and there was soon a pile of weapons between them and the Noches. "Now come out with your hands on your head!"

"Hannibal," Horatio said, catching the other man's arm before he could stand up. "Hannibal, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Serious for a second, Hannibal nodded. "Yep. This is all part of the plan, you'll see."

Calleigh watched in horror as Horatio and the others, hands clasped behind their heads, emerged from their scant cover and walked towards the Noches. There were simply too many of them for her to take out with her sniper rifle, and she was left with little choice but to watch as the Noches lined up their guns. He's really going to die this time, she thought despairingly.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Here's the obligatory A-Team scene where they escape from the bad guys in an extremely inventive manner... Hope you enjoy, and please do review!

* * *

If Hannibal and the others were worried by the machine guns pointed at their heads, they didn't show it. Horatio kept his own face carefully expressionless and decided to go along with whatever they came up with. If they came up with anything. Looking at the snarling, rage-filled faces of the Noches, Horatio had to admit that this didn't look good. This time, his instincts might have let him down, and it might be one time too many. Still, he pretended a calm he didn't feel, and hoped that Calleigh and Frank had got away. Maybe they could fetch help.

"Hey, Hannibal?" Face said, his voice perfectly steady. "Hannibal, d'you think this lot are stupid enough to shoot us without asking permission?"

"This lot are stupid enough for anything Face." Like his colleague, Hannibal's voice was perfectly normal, with no sign of strain or tension. "But I don't think they're going to be that dumb. After all, I'm sure that their leaders are going to want to talk to us first. And to Lieutenant Caine, of course. I imagine he knows all sorts of juicy details that they'd like to hear." Horatio blinked, but kept his face expressionless. Now they were offering him up to be tortured? What sort of plan was this?

The Noches looked wary now. Face smiled brightly. "You know what? I reckon that shooting us could be the biggest mistake they ever make."

Now the Noches were definitely looking uneasy. One of them seemed to be in charge, and it was him that spoke. "You are not so very important. Why should we keep you alive?"

"Your call, of course," Hannibal said innocently. "You're the ones with the guns. But I'd be pretty angry if my guys had shot you without my say-so, if the position was reversed." That seemed to decide matters, and still looking decidedly unhappy about the situation, Horatio and the others were shepherded into a warehouse, after being thoroughly frisked and all cell phones removed, with the door locked firmly behind them.

Horatio looked around at the half-empty warehouse. The windows were too high to be of use as an escape route and the only door was the one that had been locked behind them. No way out. He turned back to the A-Team, who were all looking rather pleased with themselves. "This was your plan?" he asked, his voice filled with biting sarcasm. "This was the great plan? We are locked in a warehouse waiting for some gangsters to show up and shoot us. How, exactly, is this a good plan?"

Hannibal smiled. "Look around Lieutenant. What do you see?"

Horatio stared at him, and then glanced around their prison. "A lot of junk," he replied.

"It's not junk, Lieutenant. It's our escape route." Hannibal clapped the CSI on the shoulder. "I love it when a plan comes together."

* * *

Calleigh was fighting back tears as Frank drove, sirens and lights blaring, screeching through the Miami streets. OK, so Horatio wasn't dead. Not yet anyway, but it could only be a matter of time. She didn't understand why the Noches had locked them in a warehouse, but it gave her some precious time to come up with a plan to help Horatio. SWAT would be bound to help, as long as no one asked any awkward questions. Like what Horatio was doing meeting with the A-Team in the first place. Or what she and Frank had been doing helping him. Still, if it ruined her career, anything was worth it as long as Horatio made it out alive. 

Decker was pacing around the lab when they rushed in, surrounded by Eric, Ryan and Alexx, and he glared at them. "What the hell is going on? I've got reports of a pitched battle taking place in the docks, and I'll bet Smith is behind it somehow. Where's Caine?"

"You explain this to him, Delko and the others, and I'll go get SWAT," Frank said, giving her a one-armed hug as he left. Calleigh gave herself a mental shake and held her head high. There had to be a way through this.

"Cal? What is there to explain?" Eric was looking confused.

"Horatio's been captured by the Noches." It seemed like everyone started shouting at once when she said that.

Alexx was the only one who kept her head. "Hey!" The ME's shout did nothing to quiet down the group so she calmly picked up a glass beaker from the work bench and threw it hard on to the floor. It shattered, and the room fell silent. "Thank you. Now, we all need to stay calm. Calleigh honey, tell us exactly what happened."

Aware she was lying to her friends, and just as aware that she had little choice, Calleigh said, "Horatio got a tip-off that the A-Team would be down at the docks, and went down there. Frank and I went with him, because we were the only ones he could find at short notice. I think he said he tried to contact you Colonel Decker, but that he couldn't find you. Anyway, he bumped into Hannibal and the others, but then the Noches came out of nowhere and started shooting. They captured the A-Team and Horatio and locked them in warehouse." Decker looked suspicious, but it was the best story she could come up with. "Please, you've got to help him!"

Decker hesitated for the longest second of Calleigh's life before he nodded. "The A-Team are ours though. When we get them out, they belong to us. You got that?"

"Of course."

"Good, then let's get SWAT and get a plan."

* * *

Horatio watched in awe as the A-Team went to work. BA found an old JCB lurking at the back of the warehouse and was soon immersed in fixing the engine. Murdoch and Face unearthed several vats of fertiliser and Hannibal found plenty of plastic tubing. Leaving BA to his engine, Hannibal called them all over to explain the latest plan. Despite his scepticism, Horatio couldn't help but be impressed. 

"Lieutenant, I heard a wild rumour that you used to be Bomb Squad." Hannibal was grinning again, the cigar glowing brightly. "What do you think?"

Looking at the fertiliser and tubing, Horatio had an idea of where this was going. "I think you're going to need something to provide the spark."

"Then take a look around. Murdoch, go help BA. I want that thing armoured."

"Sure thing Colonel." Murdoch winked at Horatio as he walked past. "Isn't this fun? Don't you wish you were a permanent member of the team?"

Hannibal and Face smiled at each other as Horatio completely failed to turn down the offer. Instead, he started searching for some wiring that could provide the spark they needed for their homemade fertiliser grenades. Face leaned in to speak quietly to Hannibal. "Murdoch has a point. The guy's got style."

"I know. Did you see some of the shots he made? Better than you." Face looked affronted at that, but Hannibal grinned. "And I think he understands about the jazz. If he comes up with the goods for the grenades, and if only he wasn't a cop, I'd be making him a job offer."

"Shame really. That gold badge is holding him back from a lucrative career in crime." The mercenaries grinned again and went back to work.


	11. Chapter 11

Murdoch was on look-out duty and whistled out a bird call. "What is it Murdoch?" Hannibal called out.

"The hunting cry of the Californian condor," he replied, before demonstrating the bird call again. "Did you know, the Californian condor is the largest flying bird in North America? They can live for over fifty years, which is pretty good for birds."

"Fool! He meant why are you whistling?" BA growled. Horatio and Face shook their heads, both fighting back laughter.

"Oh. Right. Well, the Noches are straightening up, and I've just seen another car pull up, and some big suits got out. I'm guessing they're pretty important." Horatio moved to join Murdoch and it only took one look for him to recognise the men who had joined the Noches that had captured them. Horatio arched one eyebrow in surprise. He certainly hadn't expected them to send in the four main Mala Noche leaders in Miami. Antonio Garcia, Raul Olmedo, Juan Lozano and Felipe Ramirez. Impressive turnout, given that they were supposedly here to simply witness an execution.

When he said as much to Hannibal, the Colonel smiled. "I knew they wouldn't let me down. You can always rely on a bad guy to want to gloat over a defeated enemy, and we've been really annoying them lately. Hey, BA! Is that thing going to run?"

BA looked over, clearly annoyed at the lack of trust. "Hannibal, my vehicles always run. You just make sure we got weapons that'll work."

"That's your job," Hannibal reminded Horatio. "OK people, let's get into position. We wouldn't want to disappoint the Noches now, would we?" Shaking his head at Hannibal's apparent total confidence in his plan, which given the way the previous plan had worked, Horatio did not share, the CSI moved to his place on the back of the JCB. What had been a run-down, broken heavy lifting machine was now covered in thick metal plates, providing armour plating that should stop most bullets. A small slit had been cut in one of the plates, giving BA, the driver, a way of seeing where he was going. At the back, where the rest of the team positioned themselves, space had been made for as many fertiliser grenades as possible. Each man had some matches, and if they failed, some flint, with which they could create the spark needed to set off the grenade. Horatio only hoped they worked.

Face and Horatio were due to work one side, while Murdoch and Hannibal took the other. The way the grenades were made, it would take two people to operate the firing mechanism: one to light the fuses, and another to aim the tubing. Hannibal looked around, checked everyone was where they should be, and nodded. He pulled on his black leather gloves and lit another cigar. "OK BA. Start her up."

There was an anxious moment when the engine spluttered and died, but the next time BA turned the key, it sprung into life. Horatio let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. So far, so good. Over the noise of the engine, it was impossible to hear anything else, but Horatio smiled as he imagined the confusion outside. The Noches would be nervous now. He looked around at the smiling, confident faces of the A-Team. The Noches would be right to be nervous. In that moment, Horatio suddenly truly understood how the four men who laughed and joked and teased each other relentlessly could be one of the best commando units the US Army had ever produced.

"Everyone ready?" Hannibal checked one last time. "Let's do this."

* * *

Calleigh had insisted on accompanying the SWAT and Army teams back to the docks, and Frank and the others had come with her. Even Alexx had refused to be left behind for this one. As the ME had succinctly put it, they might need a doctor with them. The five of them were given strict orders to stay out of the way, and had found themselves a rooftop where they could observe exactly what was about to happen. Unaware of the SWAT team's presence, the Noches could be seen checking their rifles. Calleigh felt someone take a tight hold of her hand, and smiled reassuringly at Alexx. 

"Horatio will be fine." She wasn't sure who she was reassuring there, herself or her friend, but it seemed to work, and she felt better for simply saying the words. Of course he would be fine. He was Horatio. He always got out of things like this. She'd worked with him for years, and couldn't remember seeing him hurt any worse than a scratch. He'd be fine.

A loud rumble from one of the warehouses caught all of their attention. Calleigh edged forward, but Eric pulled her back. "Just stay out of sight," he hissed, before turning to stare at the scene before them. With a deafening crash, a machine burst through the warehouse doors and headed straight towards the assembled Noches. Startled, they yelled out, and started to fire at it, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off the thick metal plates. "What the hell…." Eric said, his eyes very wide.

"Is that Horatio?" Ryan said, bewildered, as the machine swung around, revealing Horatio and Face on one side. Horatio was holding some form of white tubing, and the CSIs watched in total bemusement as something shot out of the end. The missile hit one of the Noches' cars and it exploded, the flames burning white hot. Missiles started flying out of the machine from both sides, causing devastation and fires wherever they landed.

"Oh my God," Calleigh whispered, unsure whether that was a prayer or not. "Where the hell are SWAT?" Neither the army nor SWAT showed any signs of interrupting the fight however, and the A-Team soon had the Noches throwing down their weapons. Hannibal and Face leapt down off the back of the machine, and picked up some of the discarded guns, corralling the Noches into a circle, while BA brought the machine to a halt.

It was only then that SWAT moved in. Calleigh, keeping a close eye on Horatio, like the other CSIs, did not notice Hannibal's nod to Murdoch, so they didn't see the pilot disappear into the shadows. SWAT and the Army easily surrounded Hannibal and the others, and Decker stepped forward.

"Colonel Smith," he snarled. "This time you won't be getting away."

"That's what I like about you Decker," Hannibal replied. "You're always so optimistic." Horatio and Face exchanged smiles at that comment.

"I don't know why you're looking so happy Lieutenant, you're in a lot of trouble. Consorting with criminals, aiding and abetting," Decker gestured around him. "And let's not forget the small war you were just fighting. Your IAB is going to be very interested in all this." Calleigh, followed by the rest of the team, had only just arrived at the scene, but she looked outraged.

"But I told you, Horatio got a tip that the A-Team were down here, and just ended up in the middle of everything! You can't blame him for that." If Hannibal and the others were surprised or even offended by the sudden change in story, they didn't show it.

Decker was not in the mood to be corrected. "Miss Duquesne, stay out of this. And where is Captain Murdoch?"

Horatio, Face and BA looked around, as if surprised by the pilot's disappearance. Hannibal only grinned. "You mean you didn't see him fly away? Oh Decker, that's a bad mistake. Why, he just flapped his wings and off he went, into the blue sky. You know Murdoch, he's probably flown home, back to the psychiatric hospital in LA."

His words seemed to remind Decker that Murdoch was not officially wanted by the government, and that he had captured the three that mattered the most. "Forget Murdoch then. Just get these three back to jail, where they belong. Lieutenant, we'll be keeping them at MDPD headquarters until we can arrange transport back to Fort Bragg." He stalked off, and his men handcuffed the A-Team, leading them to the police van brought along for the occasion. SWAT meanwhile were busy arresting the Noches who didn't require medical attention.

As Antonio Garcia was dragged past him, Horatio smiled at his team. "You have to hand it to the A-Team, I think this might be the end of the Mala Noche in Miami. I can't them coming back now, not knowing that all four leaders are in prison."

"Not so bad after all, are they Frank?" Calleigh asked archly.

"Not a bad result, you mean," he replied gruffly. "The Noches are done for, and the A-Team is back behind bars. A good day at the office, if you ask me." Horatio sighed at that. The A-Team were back behind bars. Still, if Hannibal's plan worked, they wouldn't be for long. And he owed them a lot, so the least he could do was help out.


	12. Chapter 12

Back at the lab, with Alexx fussing over him like a mother hen, Horatio pondered his next move. He had to leave it for a while at least, certainly until Murdoch completed his part, otherwise it would be too obvious that he was trying to help the A-Team. Eric and Ryan were still discussing the battle they had witnessed, describing it to Dan Cooper and the other lab techs, and judging by the sound effects Eric was making, Horatio was coming out of it as a bit of a hero. Not that he felt like one.

"Sugar, are you sure you're OK?" Alexx touched his shoulder gently. The fertiliser grenades had been a wonderful idea, but they had left him with several superficial burns on his hands from being too close to the flame. Alexx had taken one look at them and decided that if he insisted on not going to hospital, he had to let her take a closer look. Some people, Horatio considered, would find it slightly creepy to be receiving medical attention in the morgue, while sitting on the autopsy table, but he was getting used to it.

"Thanks Alexx, but I really am OK." He smiled at her, and she narrowed her eyes. "Honestly. The burns sting a little, but that's all. Really, I'm fine." The ME fixed him with her most penetrating stare, the one that always made Horatio feel mildly uncomfortable, as though she could see straight through him, before she nodded.

"Well, all right, but you tell me if they starting stinging any worse, or if they hurt OK? You need to take better care of yourself."

"Yes mom."

Laughing, she smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Go on, get out of here before I decide to ground you and stop your pocket money." Laughing as well, he glanced around before giving her a light kiss on the cheek. Alexx flushed and shooed him out of her room. "Charmer! Go on, get out of here!"

Eric and his audience were outside waiting for him, and Horatio held up his hand prevent being swamped with questions. It didn't stop Cooper however. "So, H, you really made grenades out of fertiliser? That is so brilliant! And you were really fighting with the A-Team! C'mon, you've got to admit, that's just cool!"

"Yeah," Eric chimed in, "especially that bit where you guys were firing grenades at the Noches!" He started making whooshing sounds again, imitating the explosions. Horatio winced, feeling another headache coming on.

Luckily, Calleigh rescued him. "I need to speak to you in private," she said, dragging him away from the crowd of admirers. "You know, if you don't want to be a hero, you might want to stop getting into situations like this."

"Thank you for your advice," he said dryly. He followed her into the ballistics lab and frowned when she shut the door. "What is it Cal?"

She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant. He wondered what in the world would make Calleigh Duquesne nervous, and hoped it wasn't the start of more trouble. After all, he could really have done with a quiet end to the week. "Horatio, I'm, it's just…" she trailed off before taking a deep breath and steeling herself for whatever she wanted to say. "Look, I know that the A-Team are criminals and that they probably should be arrested, but they saved your life, and stopped the Noches, and I just think we should be doing something to help them."

"I know."

"I mean, I get that criminals do need to pay for their crimes, and that justice must be the most important thing to us because we are police officers, but don't you think we should be helping them? I'm still not entirely sure how, but I don't like the fact that the A-Team got arrested because of us."

"Cal, I know." He caught hold of her arm. "Calleigh, I'm agreeing with you here."

"Oh." She blushed awkwardly. "So what are we going to do?"

"You are going to do nothing. I don't want you to get into trouble over this. If anyone does, it should be me. So just leave it with me and I will take care of this."

Horatio was already at the door when Calleigh spoke. "No. No, Horatio, I won't let you do this by yourself. I don't care whether you're trying to protect me, but I will not let you do this by yourself." He arched an eyebrow, surprised at her vehemence, but nodded warily, agreeing in principle at least. He could protect her from the repercussions later. "Right. Good. I'm glad we've got that sorted. So what are we going to do?"

* * *

Murdoch settled his baseball cap a little more firmly on his head and tried to figure out what he was going to say. Usually he never bothered with a plan, but he felt like he should at least try this time. Still, nothing came to mind, so he paused at the corner of the street, before turning into the road that led to the police impound lot and praying for divine inspiration. As always, the plan came to him as he sprinted up to the gate. 

"Quick! You gotta help me! Help me!"

The officer at the gate looked up, startled, and Murdoch noted happily that he was young. Far too young to know how to deal with someone like Howlin' Mad Murdoch that was for sure. "What's the matter sir?"

"There's been a terrible accident! A terrible, terrible accident!" Murdoch burst into noisy tears. "It's horrible! Just horrible, I tell you! There's blood everywhere. And all he keeps saying is 'she shouldn't have yelled at me'. That's all he'll say! Help me!"

"OK sir," the young officer said in what he clearly thought was his calm and efficient voice. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened."

"He stabbed her!" Murdoch said wildly. "He got the knife and he stabbed her again and again and again…" With each 'again', Murdoch made a stabbing motion towards the officer's heart. "Again and again and again!" As the officer went for his radio, Murdoch quickly rethought his plan. Reporting a murder wouldn't get rid of him. "She was still alive when I got there." That got the officer's attention. "Maybe you can save her."

The idea of being a hero produced the desired result and the young officer sprinted away in the direction Murdoch pointed him in, not realising that as he went, Murdoch discreetly lifted the set of keys from his belt. Luckily, the guard detail on the impound lot had been reduced only that morning. Handy, that, Murdoch thought with a grin. Swinging the keys around one finger, Murdoch started humming happily as he unlocked the gate and let himself into the impound lot. It didn't take long to find the van, and he was soon inside in the driver's seat. This would be a rare treat. BA never let him drive. Revving the engine, he drove sedately out towards the gate. The young officer came back around the corner then, talking on the radio, and Murdoch put his foot down flat on the accelerator. The van leapt forward, and smashed through the barrier that he hadn't had time to move. The officer had no choice but to leap out of the way as Murdoch screeched around the corner, tires squealing in protest. Then he was clean away, and Murdoch let out a triumphant yell.

"Yee haw! The A-Team are almost home free!"


	13. Chapter 13

Decker looked coldly at Horatio. The Colonel was obviously suspicious, but Horatio didn't want to say anything further in case it only added to his suspicions. Unfortunately for Horatio, Stetler had been spending a lot of time with Decker, and the MP clearly viewed Horatio in a similar light to IAB now. Like Stetler, however, Decker had no proof of any wrongdoing on the part of Horatio, or the Crime Lab, and so would have problems refusing any help that Horatio offered. At least, that was what Horatio was counting on.

"Why are you doing this Lieutenant? I thought you liked the A-Team."

"It's not a question of whether I like them or not," he replied evenly. "I want to see justice done here, and that means that the A-Team have to go back with you to face a fair trial. To that end, I'm offering you the help of my lab and my team to make sure that the transport of the A-Team to the airport goes as smoothly as possible."

Decker gave him an assessing look, but then nodded abruptly. "Fine, you can help. But you do what I say, to the letter, got that?"

"That will not be a problem." Horatio swallowed his smile until Decker was out of the room. At least this plan appeared to be going well. He smiled at Calleigh as he followed Decker down to the parking garage to check on the police van they would be using. She winked in return and went to fulfil her part of the plan. And to make sure Frank knew his role. Horatio watched as Decker thoroughly checked the van, making sure that the restraints were in full working order and tightly fixed to the walls. With luck, Decker would be so convinced that everything was going smoothly that he would let his guard down and make this even easier.

The military policeman on guard outside the cells the A-Team were locked up in smiled as Calleigh sauntered towards him, her hips swinging. Flicking her hair ostentatiously over her shoulder, she widened her smile a little, and was pleased to see the guard eye her appreciatively. Normally such open admiration would have irritated her, but this was one time she was pleased to be both petite and curvy.

"Well, hey there," she drawled, exaggerating the Southern accent. "I heard the MPs were good looking, but not like this!" Internally flinching at her own tactics, Calleigh added a girlish giggle. The MP seemed to be buying her act though. "Always did have a thing for a man in uniform."

"Maybe you and I can go out for a drink sometime then?"

"Oh, but I heard you boys were all heading back today. Maybe we should go for a coffee now?" Calleigh had hoped her plan worked, but she was still surprised at the ease with which she convinced him to leave his post. Oh well, she thought, leading him towards the break room. It's down to Frank now.

Frank Tripp heaved a sigh as he watched Calleigh work her magic. Only Horatio would have been able to convince him to do this. He snorted softly. Only Horatio would get himself into this mess. Any normal cop would just accept that the A-Team were guilty and leave it at that. But no, not Horatio Caine. He had to go and convince himself that they were innocent, and then of course, because he _is_ Horatio, he has to help them. Still, he wasn't about to let a buddy down, even if he did think Horatio had gone slightly mad.

Face was in the cell nearest the door, and he was the one Frank wanted. The blue eyes stared suspiciously at the cop, but he smiled brightly. "And what can I do for you this fine afternoon officer?"

"I'm only doing this because I trust Horatio, and he says you're worth the risk." That made all three stand up a little straighter. Frank sighed again. "Look, here are the keys to your handcuffs, and here's the key you're going to need to get out of the van. Murdoch will be waiting for you. And you did not get this from me, got that?"

He had turned to go, when Hannibal spoke. "Thanks. We really do appreciate this."

"I didn't do for you. I did it because Horatio thinks you're innocent, and because you apparently saved his life. Nothing else. I don't want your gratitude." The A-Team watched him go with blank expressions, before turning back to each other. Hannibal raised an eyebrow, but no one made any other comment. They weren't free just yet.

* * *

Horatio sat in the front, next to Decker who was driving. Adrenaline was coursing through him again, although this time he was very careful not to let any of it show. The slightest thing that seemed strange, and Decker could change the route they were taking, could decide to place a guard in the back with the team, could do any number of things that could upset the plan. The green town car that the MPs were using led the way through Miami's busy streets, Decker following closely. 

"Just so you know, I'm watching you closely Caine. I still don't trust you."

"I'm right beside you Decker. What could I possibly do to help the A-Team?" Decker only snorted at that comment and drove on in silence. Horatio tried not to tense up as they came to the traffic lights and relaxed minutely as they turned red on cue. Decker swore, but had little option but to stop, while the town car went on, the lights having changed at just the right moment.

The slightest bump could be heard, but Decker gave no sign of hearing anything, and Horatio wondered if he only heard it because he was waiting for it. When the lights changed back to green, Horatio relaxed a little further. It had either gone to plan, or it hadn't – there was nothing further he could do. The ride to the airport went past without further incident, and Decker pulled the van to a halt outside the private jet that he had arranged to fly the A-Team back to justice. Careful to maintain a normal expression, Horatio followed the Colonel to the back, where the MPs were already waiting, weapons drawn and ready, prepared for a last escape attempt.

When Decker flung the doors open, a stunned silence descended. The shackles and handcuffs that had bound the three captured members of the A-Team were piled neatly on one of the seats, and there was no sign of their previous occupants. Decker made a choking sound of outrage and fury as he stepped into the van and found a message scrawled on the wall: _Better luck next time._ Horatio hid a smile as he took in the worried faces of the MPs, clearly concerned by their superior's reaction. As well they might be, he considered, looking at the apoplectic rage on Decker's face.

"Caine! I know this was you! How did you do this?" Spittle flew from Decker's mouth as he yelled at Horatio. "You are going to regret helping Hannibal Smith!"

"Colonel, I was sitting next to you the whole time," Horatio said patiently. "How could I possibly have helped anyone escape?" Decker growled at him, but the other MPs were nodding.

"He's right sir," one of them offered.

Decker turned on him with a snarl. "I know he's involved! I know it!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Horatio smiled politely. He knew exactly what had happened, but wild horses wouldn't drag that secret from him. "Now, if there is nothing further Colonel, I would like to get back to my lab. These last few days will have no doubt created a backlog of work. I'm sure we'll see each other around."

Calling Calleigh on his cell, Horatio no longer bothered to hide his grin. Hannibal and the others were away, and if he knew Hannibal, it would take a better man than Decker to track them down. At least for a while. So, the Noches were either arrested or running scared and the A-Team had escaped again. A good result. Calleigh pulled up in one of the CSI Hummers and he got in, pleased to see his own triumph echoed in her smile.

"So everything went to plan?"

"Handsome, it went like clockwork." As Calleigh told him what happened, Horatio could see it all playing out in his mind's eye.

_As the military convoy approached the traffic lights, Calleigh waited anxiously by the traffic lights. Cooper hadn't asked any questions when she asked how to scramble a set of traffic lights, but had simply provided her with a device that would enable her to alter the pattern. Once the first car had passed, she pressed the button and smiled as the lights changed instantly, trapping the police van behind the lights. She peered around the corner just in time to see Murdoch, well aware of the route that the MPs would be taking thanks to a phone call from Calleigh to Eddie Ruez, run up to the back door and tap quietly on it, the signal for Hannibal to open the door from the inside. The A-Team quickly and quietly leapt out of the van, running around the corner to where their own vehicle was parked. As soon as Hannibal was clear, she flicked the switch on the machine again, restoring the usual pattern to the traffic lights. _

Horatio gave a little chuckle. "I think this is going to be the only time I ever say this, but I love it when a plan comes together."


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

It took a week for the gossip over the A-Team's mysterious escape to die down, and even then, Horatio knew Stetler would just add that to the growing list of suspicious behaviour. Not that there was anything he could do about that, so Horatio was happy to leave the IAB detective to puzzle over how Horatio conducted an escape attempt while sitting next to Colonel Decker. Other than that, things had come together very nicely, as all four of the Mala Noche kingpins that had been arrested at the docks had been charged with enough crimes to ensure that they didn't get out of jail before the next millennium. With the loss of the four main brains, rumours spread over the city that the Noches were pulling out of Miami, and retiring back to Central America, for the moment at least.

If Eric, Ryan and Alexx suspected that their colleagues had had something to do with the A-Team's escape, they said nothing, and Horatio was happy to leave it at that. Hannibal and the others had got away, and no one had got into trouble over it. That was a good enough result for him. The only part of the whole affair that left a sour taste in his mouth was his inability to find anything more concrete to prove the A-Team's innocence. There had to be some evidence somewhere, but if there was, it was classified far above any favour Horatio could pull in.

He was in his office, working through the seemingly never-ending paperwork that threatened to take over his life. When his cell rang, he was almost pleased at the thought of a new crime scene – anything to take him away from paperwork. The caller recognition didn't recognise the number though, so it wasn't Dispatch, or any of his team. He answered with a curt, "Horatio."

"Lieutenant." It was unmistakeably Hannibal's voice. Horatio sat up a little straighter. "We just wanted to let you know that the MPs lost track of us totally in Mississippi, and we're now home and dry, safely back in LA."

"Glad to hear it."

Hannibal's voice became a little diffident, as though he found what he was about to say awkward. "The guys and I wanted to pass on our thanks. You didn't have to help us like that. We do appreciate how risky it was for you."

"I'm only sorry I can't exonerate you."

"It matters more than you'd think to know that there's someone out there who believes us. We'll have to call you as a character witness at our next trial."

Horatio chuckled softly. "We'll prove your innocence one day Hannibal."

"I admire your faith in the justice system kid, but I doubt it's going to happen. You take care of yourself, and if you need us, I'm sure you can work out how to contact us."

"I'll figure it out."

"And for the record, you ever get bored of being a policeman, give me a call. I've always got space in my team for a man who can shoot like you and knows his way around explosives. We'll catch you later Lieutenant." Hannibal hung up before Horatio had a chance to respond. Well, if Stetler ever managed to get a case against him together, it was good to know he had other options, he thought with a wry grin. His cell rang again, and this time it was Dispatch, calling him to a dead body that had been found on the beach. With a sigh, he headed out to the break room to collect any members of his team who weren't already working an active case. Calleigh and Alexx were there, each with a cup of coffee. Much as he hated to interrupt their gossip session, he cleared his throat.

"Ladies, we've got a new scene. Alexx, you're going to be needed for this one."

"Let's just hope it's a bit more straightforward than our last case," Calleigh joked. "I could do without any more excitement."

"Hmm, yes, let's have a case where Horatio doesn't get to be a hero," Alexx smiled. "Maybe even a case where you don't end up fighting a pitched battle against a major gang, with only four other criminals on your side."

"Where would be the fun in that?" he asked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. Still, he found himself hoping that it wasn't the last time he bumped into the A-Team. They did have a way of livening up the city. He sighed and shook his head. Back to the day job, for now at least.

* * *

A/N: And so there you have it - the end of Horatio's adventures with the A-Team. Would love to know what everyone thinks of this - am I mad for even dreaming this up? I certainly felt a bit mad writing it! Please review, all comments really do make my day. 


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